


Rogue Spirit

by makesometime



Category: Uncharted
Genre: F/M, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:59:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes are drawn to her at first from a purely male perspective. He's only human, after all, and she's very much not entirely clothed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rogue Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> (AU if the comics are considered)

He sees her for the first time after a mission gone supremely wrong (blood, _so much_ blood and most of it _his_ – who knew a person could bleed that much and remain... mostly... upright) and she's a hell of a sight for sore eyes.

His eyes are drawn to her at first from a purely male perspective. He's only human, after all, and she's very much not entirely clothed. Her black bikini top shows off smooth tanned skin that shimmers in the bright sunlight of the tropical paradise he's holed up on to spend his earnings from the mission. She has a length of bright red fabric cinched at her waist, with shapely legs extending from the ragged hem (he's a leg man, what can he say?). She's gliding through the crowd by the pool, a crowd consisting of drunk trust fund idiots and the pretty women that inevitably flock to them.

But this woman... he senses something different in her.

And he's almost certain it's not the tequila talking.

It takes him a moment to realise – only human, remember? – but when he figures her out it's such a eureka moment that he actually laughs out loud, drawing the attention of the strapping young man tending bar. Nate waves him off with a smile, takes a healthy sip of his drink and turns to face the pool more completely.

She's good. She's _really_ good. She's moving through the crowd, dancing with men that are entirely not good enough for her, and all the while she's picking their pockets with the deftness of a master thief. Each wad of cash is slipped into the side of her bikini cup, or down into the waistband of her sarong, entirely obscured by the bodies around her, but entirely obvious to him.

She's good.

Which is why she discovers he's watching before he has a chance to look away. (Though if he'd managed it he doesn't think it would have fooled her for a second.)

She parts ways with her touchy feely companions, faux sadness painted over her expressive features as apologies and excuses spill from her pretty red lips. The minute her back is to them her face falls and she looks vaguely disgusted, but the emotion flickers away in an instant. Nate wonders if she's even aware that she let it show – it's not like he knows the woman but he gets the impression nothing she does is by chance.

She saunters over to him and he doesn't even bother to turn away from her. She smiles broadly when she settles on the stool beside him, raises an eyebrow in greeting. His eyes narrow instinctively, noting her challenge, brain quickly working to find the solution she's looking for. 

"Daiquiri for the lady." He says to the barman, and her smile broadens even more, becomes toothy and genuine.

"How did you know that, stranger?" She queries, twisting her upper body towards him and leaning her cheek on her palm. Her jet black hair spills haphazardly over her shoulders in gentle silken strands.

"It's a talent of mine." He responds, which makes her chuckle.

"One among many, I would assume?"

He laughs. "Naturally."

She hesitates for a moment, thinking. Then her hand is being proffered and he takes it without hesitation (strange, for him to trust so easily). "Chloe."

He has every reason to expect it to be a lie, a false name; she has no reason to be honest with him. But there's something in her eyes that promises truth, sincerity. "Nate..." He says, and they shake slowly. 

"What finds you in Antigua, Nate?" She asks, taking her drink from the barman with a disarming smile that makes the man's cheeks colour.

"Oh you know." He smiles. "Sun, sand... beautiful women."

"Oh really? Such a shallow assessment of this beautiful island."

He shrugs, an exaggerated suggestion of nonchalance. "I'm a simple man."

She laughs. "Somehow I don't think that's true."

He shakes his head with a wry smile. Other women would gladly accept this as an explanation, offer themselves up as a partner in enjoying the delights of the port he finds himself at. But not this woman. It's refreshing, almost. A pleasant surprise in a day he expected little more than medicinal drinking from.

"Maybe not." He allows. "What finds _you_ in Antigua? Besides some petty theft of those too drunk off their asses to know otherwise."

She grins. "I thought I recognised something of the rogue spirit in you."

He tips his glass in her direction, a toast. "Takes one to know one, I guess."

She purses her lips around her straw and takes a long, thoughtful drink. "Quite." She says eventually, one word somehow managing to convey a wealth of meaning.

"Do you have plans for the rest of the day?" He asks, wondering where the sudden desire for companionship reared its head from (after how his last partner screwed him over so spectacularly) and why it took this woman to draw it out.

She hums, pleased with his suggestion. "Not at all. My schedule is clear for as long as I can avoid itchy feet."

"And how long does that usually last?"

She hops off the bar stool and snatches up her drink. "Oh, never long enough."

#

He genuinely intends a quiet time here. There are far too many people on this island who could make his life very difficult if he caused them any trouble. But _Chloe_ has an idea.

He's fast learning he can't say no to her.

Which is what finds them stealing across the lawn of the fifth richest man on this godforsaken rock, illuminated by only the moon – Chloe had seen to the lights and cameras with the skill of someone who has done similar tasks a hundred times before. They're running full pelt, precious objects clutched in their grasps, fighting the urge to laugh as they flee towards the exit, towards certain freedom and substantial wealth.

Then the gate starts to inch down in front of them.

Their amusement fades in the burst of speed they have to put on, falling into a slide at the exact same moment. They make it under the heavy metal construction a moment before it slams down and they barely allow themselves a moment to consider how close they were to being _completely_ screwed before they're on their feet and heading back to the hotel.

They can't lie low for long, even in a place such as this. 

They have to leave, and soon. Nate is expressly aware of this.

Chloe shares none of his concern.

She has him backed up against the door of his room before he's even caught his breath, golden treasures forgotten in the heat of the moment. Her eyes hold a wild fire, a dark desire that he finds irresistible, but there's the little fact of running for their lives and the very real necessity to get off the island to consider first.

When he points this out, she just laughs.

"Come now Nate, do you really want to let this moment go to waste?" She purrs, stroking her hands over his chest. "The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline... You must know what it feels like to take advantage of that?"

"And if I don't?" He asks, hands curving over her ass.

"Then I'd be more than happy to be the first to show you." She smirks, a hand moving lower, over his stomach, his belt and then to curve over the evidence that he thinks this to be a very good plan.

His fingers tighten on the firm muscle beneath his palms. "I put myself entirely in your capable hands."

She chuckles, lifting up to ghost her lips over his. "Oh Nate, I think it's the other way round at the moment."

He flexes his arms and hefts her up until her legs partially wrap around his hips. He then flips them, forcing her back into the door with a hard shunt of his body against hers. "You don't strike me as a woman who lets others take the lead." He suggests pressing his lips to her jaw, her throat, the curve of her clavicle.

"I'm willing to compromise this time, since you did me such a–." She breaks off with a gasped laugh when his hips thrust into hers. "… _Large_ favour."

"You certainly know all the right things to say." He says, pulling her away from the door and supporting her weight over to the bed.

"Well, I have to have some talents too."

Nate grins, kissing her quickly. "How about you show me a few more of those?"

She nips at his lips, smile turning almost feral. "I was beginning to think you'd never ask."

#

When he awakens it's still dark outside, for which he is ridiculously grateful. He knows there are a few people who can get him off the island before it becomes too dangerous, and they operate the most unfavourable hours.

Turning over to rouse Chloe, he finds her side of the bed cold and empty, with just a scrap of paper on the pillow. He snatches it up and skims the words there with an increasingly wide smile.

_Nate,_

_Good luck getting rid of your haul. When you find a buyer, why not treat yourself to another holiday – you earned it after all. I hear Fiji is beautiful this time of year..._

_C x_


End file.
